The Pursuit of the Ideal
by Mistykins06
Summary: What is it about Molly Hoopers small apartment that makes it an ideal bolt hole? A Sherlloly wash on the LM Montgomery short story by the same name.
1. Chapter 1

The Pursuit of the Ideal.

There was a small apartment that Sherlock Holmes used as a bolt hole to hide from the world. Tiny, even by London standards, the single bedroom, single bath and small living area was joined by what was generously referred to as a kitchen. It's housed worn,'antique' furniture that would once have been described as plush but now was considered worn in all the right places. The small space called and welcomed him to sit and settle in into it as siren would bid a sailor to slip into the sea. And it's mistress, while no siren herself was a spectacularly obliging hostess to her wayfaring guest. Always there with a warm cup of coco or something stronger depending on the night where the two would sit and chat late into the night while he avoided whatever trouble lay outside the doors of what he refers to as his 'snuggery'. They spoke of childhoods, of books, of family and eventual aspirations, but never the present. Never what evil was lurking out there for him on danger nights, and never about their professional relationship. No, this was a unique unspoken agreement. In this time they were just friends: Sherlock and Molly. His visits weren't regular, and never scheduled but both parties certainly enjoyed the simple, quiet time together till he felt ready to brave the world once more.

It was on such a night where Sherlock Holmes could be found stretching himself out in an easy chair, letting out a tremendous groan of comfort.

"Molly, this chair is one of the most comfortable spots on all the world." He sighed once more.

Molly smiles "My Uncle Larry was fond of that chair. Aunt Maud said it fit the lazy mans kinks just right."

"I am not a lazy man." He denied. "You Molly of all people know that."

"I like being a lazy person too, you knows. " She laughed handing him a cup of coco with a peppermint in it. He allowed himself to smile I return.

" Thank you." He drank for a moment. " You really are a good friend to me. Im so comfortable being here with you, discussing things with you."

Molly blushed a bit as she drank deeply from her own mug.

"And you something to tell me today don't you Sherlock? Oh we both know you do. Come on then. Let's hear your confession detective." She held her breath. Not allowing herself to hope for longer than a breath that he'd say she meant more than a cup of coco and a comfy spot to crash to him.

He got to his feet as a gravely serious look over took him. "Molly, I have found my Ideal."

The small woman kept her eyes him, unable to respond. What was he saying?

Sitting down once more he spoke again. " You see there, right there? You have a certain genius sometimes for silence Molly. If you asked the stupid questions like John always does, then I wouldn't get the satisfaction of telling you everything myself. Bravo Molly!"

His hostess remained quiet and he took it as a sign to continue.

"Your remember of course? That night we discussed what our ideal partner would be? "

Molly would never forget. They'd laid at opposite ends of her bed and he had told her of the woman of his dreams. He described a Venus. Tall, slender, chestnut brown hair that shone, with the hint of a ripple to it. That he'd thought of the tone her skin must be ( ivory, of course bearing the expression of a Madonna) on an oval shaped face had amused her a bit. Eyes a peaceful blue, but deep and as tender as an evening sky. Then they had laughed because such a woman couldn't exist. A fantasy. One that, given his desire to stay committed to his work was little more than leftovers from childhood fairy tale princess that, he the brave knight would rescue.

Molly had even been slightly at peace with her desire for the handsome detective. She was short, and her hair was a light mousy brown and straight as straw. Her completion dark and freckled. As for her eyes, the resembled a dark night rather than a twilight lit evening. Knowing she would never be what he wanted had freed her to let him go. Most of the time she believed it too.

"Molly? Are you alright?" She asked with a turn of his head.

"What? Oh. OH! Yes, just a bit shocked! Do tell me how you met her. Go on then."

Sherlock frowned. Molly's expression was solemn, not her normal peaceful gaze. Yet,in the same moment she looked as though she might be laughing at him. Women.

"My brother called me in on a highly secret case, I went to go see a... Well a woman who is saving some sensitive materials that I needed to obtain. But Molly, she was so stunningly beautiful! I laid eyes on her and knew she was something incredible. We even made plans to have dinner soon." He was so nearly joyous.

"Do perfect women with Madonna faces eat?" She asked in a joking tone. Anything to hide that she was dying inside.

Clearing his throat he stood once more. "I will confess to you Molly that I did not expect you of all people to make fun of me about this. " His voice turned cold. "It's unlike you. I'm not telling you anymore about it. Lest it bore you. I need to get back to Baker Street anyways."

He grabbed his signature coat and scarf and swirled them on. When his hand turned the knob she called out.

"Sherlock, wait! That was horrid of me! I shouldn't have laughed I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Forgive me?" She managed a weak smile.

Holding her eyes, weighing her seriousness. He finally nodded, but still set out to leave.

"Aren't you at least going to tell me your Ideals name?" She called out.

"Irene. Irene Adler." And he pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

A/N : I would have listed this as a cross over if LM Montgomery's short story had been listed. The inspiration is all her on the situation that I've thrown Sir, Arthur Conan Doyals Sherlock and SM/MG Molly Hooper. I own nothing of any of them.

If you wish for spoilers, the story is found I the At The Alter collection of her short stories. Or you can wait for the second of 3 installments. Soon. Very soon.


	2. Chapter 2

It was two, busy weeks before Sherlock found himself needing to return to the familiarity of Molly's Abode.

He got there, craving his chair and her coco and hoping that Molly would be able to get his head straight about this mess Irene was causing him. How could someone so alluring and well suited to him be so difficult to get a handle on? Not that he truly wanted a relationship, but you don't come across a brilliant and beautiful woman who could make your head spin with a single look everyday. Especially when you are Sherlock Holmes. He needed someone to help him gather his thoughts. Someone safe. And that someone was Molly.

He knocked on her faded blue door and when it opened he pushed his way in anxious to speak to her of Irene's convincing charms and fearsome faults. "Molly-" he stopped when his eyes hung on to an unfamiliar 6 ft frame lounging comfortably in HIS chair as if he owned it. A very handsome, very male frame at that.

Molly motioned him in. "Come on in Sherlock! We were just catching up. This is Max and Max, this is Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock meet Max Grayson. Oh well, I guess you have- just now. Anyhow, he and I attended medical school together. Max just moved back to the city and we've just been catching up a bit this afternoon. Sherlock, max have you heard of him? He comes into he lab when he need- things. "

The man in question stood, shook hands. Sherlock studied him quickly. The man was a doctor, an oncologist from an upper middle class family. Enjoyed hands on activities and was recently single after a long, yet failed relationship. It been several months though and he was hoping to try again. With Molly. He seemed almost annoyed that Sherlock had arrived.

More worrying was that Molly clearly felt the same. She wore a new red sweater that gave her the appearance of a blush. Although the blush may have been from the conversation she and her guest were having before his arrival. Early, well received flirtatious overtures. Therefore he decided that he had arrived at a good moment. He sat down on the rickety stool Molly kept by her door, more for her bag than for a person.

Max made a move toward the door. "I should get going, where did the time go? I'm supposed to be meeting Jennings at the bar for a beer. Although I hate to go. This was ... Great to see you Molly. "

"We shouldn't wait so long to do it again." She replied a bit shyly. An almost awkward moment passed between the two, painful for Sherlock especially.

"How about we meet for dinner tonight then? Is that too soon you think?" Max asked eventually. Immediately Molly smiled brightly

nodded.

"Only if we go to Montgomery's for dessert afterwards."

"I'm sure that can be arranged." Max laughed. I'll be back to pick you up at say 7." It was agreed and they both stood awkwardly at the door till Max finally kissed her check and left. Molly shut the door and stood with her eyes closed leaned back against the door grinning like a fool.

"Well now that he's gone I suppose I can have MY chair back. " He said jumping from his awkward coot a settling in swiftly. "And I'll take my usual cup of coco as well."

Molly's eyes popped open and she blushed. Surely she hadn't forgotten that he'd been there? She quickly ducked into the kitchenette and

appeared with his favorite mug. She handed it to him, but didn't settle into the couch herself. She wondered almost dreamily instead toward her bedroom and opened her wardrobe to find what she would wear that evening. Sherlock remained in his chair, pouting and watching her choose what to wear on her date that night. He took a sip from the cup and found that instead of the regular mint coco a luxurious chocolate carmel met his tongue. He nearly spit it out in shock. It wasn't that it was bad, the salty carmel cut the sweetness expertly, but it wasn't what he had expected. Or wanted. But then neither, had he expected to find a man here and her found that he certainly didn't want him there as well.

"Out of mint coco?" He called to Molly who was buried deep in her clothes. God only knew what she was after.

"Oh, no. Max made that for me earlier. I can't believe he remembered it was my favorite after all these years!" She said excitedly.

"So he makes coco in his spare time?" He asked. Trying not to think about how he hadn't known Molly's favorite drink himself. Of course he'd never asked what her favorites were.

"Yes, his parents own a really good café. He can do a bit of everything after growing up and working there. Max bakes scrumptious cakes, can repair appliances and make divine drinks. He even got me a job there in the summers, although all I was really good for was cleaning up after they baked. And eating the delicious things he made me of course. "

He sulked as she sang of Max's many talents. And his past care of her

She shut her door and eventually came out dressed in a dress with long sheer sleeves and a Peter Pan color in a deep plum. It was a few years old but never worn. Modest yet alluring in its innocent cut. She stepped into the hall and called to him."How goes the pursuit of your ideal woman by the way?" Her hands were expertly pulling her long thick hair into a side braid. He hoped she was planning to pull it up into the knot he favored on her, but then remembered she was getting dressed for her date and changed his mind. It wasn't settling well him wearing her hair like that for Max.

Strolling over, Sherlock followed her as she returned to the bath to put the final details on her appearance and stood leaning on the frame, watching curiously as she prepared her self for her dinner date with a subtle touch up to her makeup. Sherlock seemed unable to speak of Irene as he watched Molly flit around.

His mind a bit hazy as it attempted to speak about the woman who when he first met her in person wore nothing but perfume and heels when the petite woman in front of him was applying a subtle polish to her already beautiful appearance. Not that the physical mattered, well much. There was no comparison between the two and it felt wrong to think of Irene's cunning eyes and tempting mouth while watching the fascinating way Molly's opened her own mouth as she lined her eyes. Studying, he watched her apply some sort of gloss over her lips. The effect made her lips far more noticeable, a deeper, richer color and far too damn kissable. When she out the container away, she turned to him. "How do I look?"

He swallowed. She looked lovely. But there was an irritable feeling niggling at him. It had taken her months to get over crush on him. He'd wanted her to move could be such great lab partners and yes, friends. But he could never be what someone like Molly Hooper would need in a domestic interest. And he certainly wasn't what she deserves. Max, howeverp was someone that would deserve her. At the thought, a flicker of jealousy passed over him, but he squashed it quickly. She deserved to be happy after all.

Taking a deep sigh, he responded. "More than adequate I'm sure." Keeping his voice and expression neutral.

Molly laughed, a charming, joyous laugh. Sherlock realized that he had never heard Irene's. Oh the ideal would smile, placidly if the need arose to express amusement, but she was always rigid and reserved in her expressions. It served as a reminder of just how much of a persona was rather than a personality. The tiny woman in front of him was the opposite. Molly was far too expressive to have an enigmatic persona.

"Well I suppose that's your version of okay." She was smiling as she brushed past him on the way out of the bathroom. Without thinking he reached our and held her arm as she passed, causing her to spin back toward him.

"You look well Molly." He said releasing her as swiftly as he'd grabbed her. She stood looking closely at him as he walked into the living area and slipped his coat back on.

"Your leaving? But instill haven't heard your updates!" Molly said, clearly confused.

"Yes, well you have somewhere to be, and I have to do some thinking. "

Neither of them commented that he normally would be doing that there.

"Have a good evening, Molly." And he left.

Turning out on the street and walked a great number of blocks when he heard his phone let out a now familiar moan. He lifted the screen and read.

I saw you on the street today. You didn't see me.- IA

He didn't reply. He never did regardless, but added that to his list of things to consider. Sherlock Holmes walked on


	3. Chapter 3

As the fall faded into unforgiving winter, Sherlock Holmes was finding his world to be a strange and unfamiliar place. His consulting business was thriving thanks to his flat mate, friend and blogger John Watson. The man who treated him as average as anyone else ever had and guided him through the difficulties of human interaction while providing excellent back up on cases. Mycroft had him on the Royals beck and call. A dominatrix was attempting to seduce him and he was being driven insane by the fact that the once adoring Molly had found not only a relationship, a serious one too. Joy.

Attempts at fighting the changes had been made. He'd attempted to drive John off. Shown up at Buckingham Place in no more than his bed sheet, been drugged by Irene when he let his guard down and Molly... Well she tried to act as though things were normal whenever he sought out his chair, cup and cat at her place. But each time he arrived it wasn't the same comfort it had once been.

In the short, final days of the year he stopped going there at all. He couldn't place why he felt so much more ennui when he thought of the tiny flat and it's occupants and how he no longer felt as welcome as he once did. He knew why it was different. There was another in his place. Another man who, much as he was loathed to admit could be capable of making Molly happy. One who was often there when he arrived and staying after he left. They couldn't talk with Max around and they stopped speaking of the Ideal at all.

The last time he'd gone by her flat was two weeks before Christmas though her male companion had been mercifully absent.

Sherlock had came in to her one evening after her shift and found it lit only by fairy lights. She had soft holiday music playing and a pot of soup going. She welcomed him in happily and offered him a bowl. He excepted and they settled in at her kitchen table and ate quietly. Every now and then Molly looked up and their eyes would catch. Molly finally laughed. " This is terrible. We can speak you know."

Sherlock allowed his lips to turn up. "It's been a while since I've gotten you alone. Perhaps I forgot the social pattern I'm supposed to be following. "

"Well then shall I remind you? You are supposed to ask me how I've been and what I've been up to. You politely pretend to listen and nod at every third thing I say. Then I shall ask you how you've been and you tell me. " She said with ease. Amusement filled her eyes.

Holding her eyes he asked. "How are you Molly?"

"Very well thank you. I'm enjoying the lovely Christmas season. We had our department Christmas party last night. Jones drank till he vomited on Stanford. I can't wait till he comes back from holiday to tease him about it. The work itself has been manageable. No terribly interesting cases which is why I'm sure we haven't seen you. How about you?"

He studied her. "Oh the same. John and I have been on some boring theft cases and one mildly interesting disappearance. But I'm sure you read about that." She nodded. Then stood to take their bowels to the kitchen.

"Have any plans for Christmas? Will you be going home to your parents?"

"Not if I can help it. I suppose it will be Mrs Hudson and I. John is abandoning London to go pretend to be happy with his sister." He said walking to his chair, slipping his shoes off and sitting down. Toby appeared as if by and magic and curled up in his lap. "Miss me little fellow?" He whispers quietly to the feline. An answering purr assured him that he hadn't lost the cats affection at least.

"What's Matt doing this evening? I trust nothing has happened between you two. " He called out striving to keep a bitter tint out of his voice. He failed.

"It's Max and you know it Sherlock." She said handing him a mug. "And he is out with Jennings fighting the crowds while Jennings shops for his kids."

"He seems to be spending a good deal of time here."

Molly looked at Sherlock with an expression that read 'as do you ' but said not a word.

"You two are getting closer after all." He said again trying to find what definition Max and Molly had.

"We're not dating exactly, but we're not well not dating either. It's a bit to soon after he and Angela. " Molly finally said with a slight tone of nervousness.

Sherlock hummed noncommittally and watched Molly settling in on the couch changing the subject. "So how goes the case with your Ideal?"

He didn't want to talk about that. " She seems to know just when I've gotten her out of my head and uses that moment to get my focus back to her." He finally answered.

"Have you asked her out yet?" Sherlock noticed her grab a decorative pillow and bring it to her lap playing with the fringe. His eyes never left her fingers as they traced the floral pattern.

"Why would I do that?" He asked a bit confused.

"To get to know her better. Have dinner with her. See how you too get along. What's the worst that can happen?" She said plainly.

Sherlock thought over the texts to 'have dinner.' Alot could happen actually.

"No, I don't think I can do that. Not yet." He finally answered.

"Oh come on Sherlock. You just managed to eat a meal with me, surely you could manage to eat with a beautiful, alluring and intelligent woman." She was staring at the pillow still. Sherlock wondered if she knew that she had just described herself as well as Irene Adler.

"Perhaps. But I don't think it's dinner that she implying." He watched as the realization hit her.

"Oh! Oh... well that's... That a bit forward really. " She said shock and embarrassment on her face.

Sherlock watched her debate to ask the next question and decided to ask it for her. "You are wondering why I'm still not taking her up on the offer?"

Molly nodded a bit ashamed that he'd known her thoughts and also relieved to have the question out there as well. Sherlock also noted that her fingers had transitioned from tracing to now grabbing the pillows edge hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

"I don't know why I haven't. I can only think that I'm waiting for her situation I reach, you'll forgive the phrase 'climax' and then... Perhaps." He admitted. Did he really intend to go that route with Irene? He couldn't deny that he did feel attracted to her.

"That sounds- reasonable." Molly finally decided. "It's just a matter of time and then, you'll have the perfect woman. Sherlock Holmes will be off the market." Ah, the discomfortable blush. She hated saying it. As much as he hatted hearing it.

"I was never on some eligible market to begin with. And it won't be like that with Irene. So don't go planning what to wear to my wedding just yet Molly. " Anger and annoyance surged within him.

"You mean you'd just want to.. To 'have dinner' and that be it? That's your end game with this perfect creature whose fascinated you? I never thought you that sort Sherlock. I never thought you where like-" Molly flashed with annoyance as well but quickly clamped her mouth shut when she almost said his name.

Jim. Moriarty. The man who had feigned interest and used her to get to him. Damn it.

"You know it's not the same." He challenged.

"Only because you both seem to understand the rules." She stood up and took his mug from him and walked at record speed to her kitchen. "You know maybe you should consider more. I'm sure the two of you would be just lovely together. It sounds like you deserve one another."

Sherlock stood to follow her. "Molly."

"I'm going to bed. Make yourself comfortable, or leave. Just do what you want if that makes you happy. That's all your looking for anyways." She spoke in a rush.

Sherlock strode over to her before she could make it in her door. He grabbed her arm and spun her back around till she faced him. Her gaze avoided his though, looking far past his shoulder at the Christmas tree. "Molly." He repeated.

Her deep brown eyes finally met his, the unshed tears reflecting the light of the room back to him. It was an oddly beautiful sight. Focusing in them he spoke.

"I'm not going to use her like Jim did you. In fact I think Irene is far more likely to be the one who'll use me and toss me aside when the next good offer comes along." Admitting the thought that had plagued him bitterly for weeks and feeling far too vulnerable for his liking he let Molly go and went back to slip on his shoes and then grabbed his coat. Pausing at the door, he turned to her one last time looking hard at her broken expression. "I will never be one to settle down Molly. There is no happily ever after in my future. I'm not like John or you, or anyone else who seeks a 'happily ever after'. I don't even really want this distracting dalliance with her. " Sherlock stepped towards Molly once more. "I haven't decided what I'm going to do, but I will see that she is not hurt, not that I'm sure it's even possible what ever our ending may be."

"So you do care for her then." Molly stated in a near whisper. "A great deal. Whatever that means for you."

"In a way perhaps. But I don't want you to imagine me as being some love sick fool. " he spoke calmly.

"I don't think I ever could." She spoke again soft and low her eyes on his mouth.

They were close. Too close and the lights were giving her living room a far to intimate feel.

"Goodnight Molly." And he was gone.


End file.
